


Who doesn't need a jet?

by grape65



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grape65/pseuds/grape65
Summary: Before the war, I really like the idea of how nice Pharma and Ratchet's relationship could've been, even if ratty is a fool and shit with emotions. So heres just some stuff like that:) I might add more chapters as I feel like it? And also no I don't take criticism lol
Relationships: Pharma/Ratchet (Transformers)
Kudos: 6





	Who doesn't need a jet?

Days can be tiring sometimes. This goes for everyone, right? Ratchet knew this. And yet, here he was, trying to stuff away his own processor.  
He's used to this, he's more than just any doctor. Patients come, patients go, and patiends die. Sometimes, he can see it as the newer doctors tremble, that telling arm coming up to their helm just to keep their optics clean while they hide away in the staffroom. Ratchet used to be like that, too. Everyone simply reaches a point of becoming desensitised with experience; Part of becoming a professional. Even so, no matter how much being the CMO should call for composure, he was still just a mech. 

The past week had been different. Even more casualties than usual. And too many of those were by his hands, his patients, that he'd failed. Ratchet found himself being unable to brush off all the thoughts that came with being surrounded by so much death. Rationally, he knew he hadn't failed, not everything is curable. But that simply didn't always work to quiet his processor, as he even almost struggled to get down the energon when it came to his break. Almost. It's not like he'd just let himself exhibit any physical signs of distress, he has more control than this.

Out of all his coworkers, one of them always seemed more... attentive. His student. Well, former student. Mentoring Pharma was something he had taken pride in during the jet's training. For perhaps more reasons than he was ever meant to. Ratchet had grown out of it since then - grown out of that "party ambulance" getup. He rarely drank, and the thrill of his more experimental endeavors eventually became, well, less thrilling. Looking back on highlights was still pleasant, though. And Pharma was no exception, Ratchet definitely savoured those memories the most. Maybe a little too much. Of every habit he stopped, he couldn't say the fling with that jet had ever really become over. 

Once he obtained his medical license, Ratchet was no longer his mentor, so there wasn't much calling for his lessons. But Pharma was a persistent jet for some reason, once Ratchet took on more hours attending to patients and files, he gradually became a lot more distant. It was primarily Pharma taking the initiative, inviting the tired CMO out to restaurants. And when it was a general get together with coworkers, the jet was fast, always making sure he was seated next to Ratchet, and offering him to spend the night together. While he didn't always say yes, he liked Pharma, so he did let himself indulge and spend occasional nights there. An effective way to take the edge off, though he wondered why Pharma tried sometimes - when he'd turn him down so often, and never initiate things himself. Surely someone else would read it as a sign of disinterest?

After a demanding shift, it was dark out, plenty of the staff had already left having been on earlier shifts. Including his former student. Sighing, the stocky mech began to sort his desk. It was tedious, it took some time coping with all the paperwork that came with his position. Letters, requests, applicants for hiring, patient files, complaints. Sifting through which he has to bring home to finish signing by morning, and which are complete. Before a gentle knock at his office door called for his attention, and before he could even work through a response, the handle was turned and the door pushed open anyways, slowly. From around the door, an unmistakable wing peeked around, followed by the rest of that gorgeous blue frame. 

"Ratchet..?"

The CMO blinked up at him, fumbling to uncover todays timetable of shifts among the loose papers, and wiped his optics trying to make sure he was reading it right. "You want me to check you in for overtime, kid?"

Quietly, the jet shut the door behind him, approaching the desk with oddly soft steps. And behind it he came, standing right over Ratchet's chair. He was big, much bigger than the stocky ambulance, and he'd be intimidated if this were anyone else. "No..." He leaned over, fine blue hands so casually taking files, beginning to slot the ones he could recognise into their assigned folders. "I'm only here for you, Ratch."

His EM field bristled against Pharma instinctively, but because of what, Ratchet couldn't tell. The fact he was touching his papers? Then he would've done something about it. How closely he felt comfortable to approach, the fact he didn't ask anything? He'd tell himself, surely, that was the root of his agitation. While the mech did nothing but sit and accept it. Quicker to accept Pharma invading his space than he is to accept the fact that the fault of his annoyance is only himself, for letting Pharma have a reason to do as he pleases.

"You know I can tell, right?"

That bristling, again. Stubborn, Ratchet reached to pick up a file before the jet got his hands on it, and his office chair rolled away from Pharma just by a little bit. "There's nothing to tell, Pharma." 

"Let me come home with you. I don't mind who's place it is." Instead of picking up another document, that hand was so softly set on the ambulance's much clunkier arm. Ratchet just sighed. "And I told you to stop saying 'kid' years ago."

And he smiled, only a little bit, but it was a smile. He'd declined the jet's company so often recently, cut it short so many times, for what? It's not like there were many other mechs he wanted to spend time with; its not like he did spend time with the others. Pharma had grown from a student to his most reliable company, playing professional and disinterested did no good. But he knew he didn't have the energy to give the jet what he wanted, what he'd always wanted. As good as interfacing with him had been before, as refreshing as it is to have every once in a while still, he was tired. But something felt... Odd. "I'm not gonna be any good of company tonight, Pharma. You're best off going home."

Being so close, he could feel the jet's EM field too if he felt closely. And it certainly was different. But how, the ambulance couldn't bring himself to feel enough to figure out why. "No, Ratch, I have something to tell you. I don't need that stuff tonight. Please?" He leaned back in his chair; knowing he had no reason to turn Pharma down. All he has is a few papers to sign, nothing he can't do even with spending time with someone. He'd done it plenty of times before. So he agreed. And seeing the jet smile too felt nice.

#

Despite initially wanting to just go to his own home, sink into his own familiar berth, Ratchet found himself saying the opposite. So here he was once again, though it'd been a while. After unlocking the apartment, Pharma took his hand. He just took it, like it was his, carefully pulling Ratchet along with him into his home. If there's one thing he always had, it was the audacity. His home was much cosier than Ratchet's; the jet had very different tastes, he was much more... materialistic. Though, he is the best doctor Ratchet knew, and he knew all too intimately that it was all a natural, brilliant skill. If he wanted to spend his money on cosy home additions, he deserved it. Ratchet knew that very well from the years mentoring him.

"Sit down. I'll be the one taking care of you tonight." The way Pharma spoke felt like it was reminding him of something, a very soft familiarity. He brushed it off as he did as told, making himself fairly comfy and watching in his peripheral as the blue medibot pour some drinks. When he sat, despite there being plenty of space, Pharma made sure to have his frame pressed close next to the ambulance, a wing tucked behind him to lessen the gap as much as possible. Ratchet was used to sharing closeness with him, of course, but that was usually saved for the berth or while intoxicated. He stayed quiet for a while, just pondering, trying to dig through his processor for what that jet wants. Before realising he could just ask, instead.

"So... Going to tell me what it is you wanted to talk about?"

"How blunt." Pharma purred from his engine, and leaned against the stocky ambulance's frame, softly holding onto the closest arm. "Let's just take our time. Relax, Ratch, I'm just here for you. I want you to talk to me, too." he pressed his EM field close against the smaller mech. It was... gentle. It felt like safety in a blanket, but it was just Pharma. Internally, Ratchet scorned himself for having such strange thoughts - he liked Pharma, yes, but there isn't be any practical reason why he should get any intimate feelings like that. Relationships within the workplace aren't a good idea, and everything they did was just platonic. He knew that. Everything's always just been fun, like with everyone else. Though he never understood why Pharma seemed to prioritise their meetings, even when the jet was sleeping around, too. "We should get comfy first." Ratched liked hearing his voice.

He leaned into the jet a little, too. Just gently. Ratchet couldn't help but think of how he appreciated Pharma, something about his presence brought such a warm security. The two always worked best together. And he found talking easiest with Pharma, he really could just relax with him around. It'd barely started, but he knew he needed this. Gently, Ratchet lifted his own arms, and wrapped them all around the big jet he'd become so acquainted to having as company for so, so long. "I'm just curious, Pharma..." he trailed off a little, contemplating his situation. Was this really appropriate? This was his coworker, no matter how physically intimate, Ratchet drew the line at showing too much... emotional vulnerability. So he shouldn't pry like this, and yet, in just absorbing his surroundings to forget the stresses of work, Pharma really was the only thing on his mind. He had to. "What makes you... Do all of this stuff? For me specifically..."

Laughter. Just soft laughter came from the larger mech, shuffling his frame to press closer against Ratchet, he let his engine purr a little louder. Clearly making no conscious effort to mask how he feels, unlike someone. Ratchet squeezed closer, and Pharma turned his frame, reaching his own arms to hold the clunky ambulance too, and the CMO found his helm resting cosily against the jet's chestplating. "Oh, Ratch..." His voice was quieter, now. Ratchet couldn't bring himself to mind. "I just like you. You know this." He sounded happy. Ratchet felt his spark swell with something completely unfamiliar, as he let his optics slowly switch offline. Just completely letting go of thinking. Except for Pharma, that is. All that mattered right now was the mech he was pressed up against, and that loud engine filling up his audials. 

"You do." He could feel his own grounder engine start up, too. Pharma had told him many times in their get-togethers of how he likes the sound of Ratchet's purring. Ratchet was tired. Very, very tired, and here Pharma was - Literally just here. Much more welcome thoughts began to spread through his processor, though any other day they wouldn't be welcome at all. This part, the talking, using words, was definitely where Ratchet felt he was most unqualified to be handling. Without moving his helm, he felt as if he couldnt do anything but kiss the jet, right there on his smooth chest. He knew it was about time he settled down with a sparkmate, and always questioned why he kept seeing Pharma if this were the case.  
Now it made sense.

Delighted, the jet trilled above Ratchet. He noticed an immediate change in the jet's tone; those blue hands filled with more energy, his engine rumbling even louder, and his field. That soft field became so much more intense, but it was so, so welcomed. "It only took you a few years." His voice was filled with a genuine, heartfelt excitement that just made Ratchet want to squeeze that gorgeous flier's frame unbelievably tight. So he just did. He could do anything with Pharma here, he's known that all along. 

"You're joking" Ratchet insisted. There's no reason Pharma should have any feelings for him to begin with, surely.

"Don't you remember when we first fragged?" He sounded almost smug; that audacity once again. Ratchet didn't even care, he just pushed his frame even closer against the jet, no longer wanting to repress just how badly he actually wanted him. "You're so oblivious. Why else would I have... saved myself for you like that?" Ratchet knew a rebuttal; 'because you told me why' and all this, but enough was enough. He'd heard what he needed to hear, just when he needed to hear it, too. Just as he began to lift his helm up, some clicks and a sudden blue light kept him right where he was. "I saved something else for you, too, you know."

It was nothing short of magnificent. Ratchet couldn't believe it. Everything he hadn't realised he wanted was right here - and it'd been under his nose for so, so long. He felt like an utter fool, but at least a happy one. Softly and carefully, he kissed Pharma's spark. "I love you." was the only thing he could think to say, though his processor threw around millions of happy things. Lifting up his helm, he gave the jet no time to reply before kissing him directly, and more passiontely than he could've ever mustered in all this time. Those wonderful, forged blue hands held onto him so securely, Ratchet wanted to become so, so lost in those arms. 

Pharma wasn't letting him off the hook - it was clear he'd been anticipating this for a long time, and was more than excited for everything to finally be surfacing. As he held onto Ratchet, so did his EM field. It coiled around him tightly, possessively, even. The ambulance just basked in it, melting into his kiss, as his own hands felt all over that lovely, slender frame in a whole new way of feeling it. He hadn't even realised it when he was no longer even sitting, Pharma had pushed him onto his back and was all over him, pressing his spark insistently down against Ratchet's chestplating. Ratchet barely broke the kiss to gasp a bit, feeling his own spark whirring and needy inside him. "I.. W-what I said earlier... About not being good company... I take it back. I was being an idiot."

"I can tell you're eager already." Pharma purred as smug as could be, and it wasn't long at all before Ratchet could feel the jet's frame getting warmer. Oh, how he hated that bastardy attitude. But he loved it even more so. "I think we should at least move to the bedroom before I make you mine, my beloved."


End file.
